Depression

Cutting

I dig the razor into my flesh and wince at the pain, but it got rid of the pain I feel every other day. I dig it into my flesh again and again and again until my entire wrist in covered in them. The blood trickles down my wrist and onto the floor. "Time for my other wrist." I pick up the razor and dig it into my wrist over and over and over again, but it doesn't take away the pain; it's still there. 

I put on the long sleeved black t-shirt to cover my cuts, but it hurt so I wrap my wrists with a wrap and pull my sleeves over my wrapped wrists and walk out of the door. Walking down the street in long sleeves is torture, but so is my life. My mom, dad, sisters, brothers, grandparents, and everyone I have ever trusted died, or left, or both. My mom left when I was three, my dad got remarried and she beat me, my brothers and sisters, and she let her brother rape, and molest my sisters and me. My oldest brother took my younger siblings to live with him, but the second and third oldest killed themselves to get away from our dad's new wife and her abuse. 

I walk down to the park and sit on one of the benches and pull out a book. I got to the park at noon and I don't leave till I finish the book. I look up at the dark sky when I hear footsteps coming towards me and I look around to see a group of guys. "I need to leave now." I stand up and walk the opposite direction they do, but they quickly catch up to me. 

"Hey, wanna have some fun." I quicken my pace, but one grabs my wrist and I fall to my knees and wince in pain. 

"P-Please stop." My voice was horse. 

" What's wrong?" He pulls me up by my wrist and sees the bandage, and he laughs.

"Stupid bitch." He grabs my throat and him and his friends do things to me that I'm already used to, but having someone else do it is even worse. 

I walk home, hurting, crying, and bleeding. I walk into the bathroom, take off my long sleeve and pants and look at my bandaged wrists and see all the blood that bleed through and I look at my thighs. I grab my razor and start cutting into the flesh of my thighs and I don't stop both thighs covered in new cuts, reopening old scars and bleeding everywhere. I sit in the tub and bleed. 

I look at the razor covered in my blood and I look over at the sink and see a bottle of pills and get out of the tub wobbling over to the sink and pick up the bottle. "Advil." I open the bottle, take off the lid and raise it to my mouth.